Especially the handful of times their eyes had met, and the guy had flushed prettily, shyly glancing away.
He’d been in expensive workout clothes, otherwise, with the best earbuds money could buy and a brand-new phone. But it hadn’t just been that. It was the quiet confidence and the polish over him, like he’d been shined up by all the relative comfort of his situation.
Lane had told himself it was a bad idea to even look at him, but it had been hard not to. They’d never spoken, but he’d been tempted.
Now, trying to grapple with the knowledge thatthiswas Trevor Thompson, he was so fucking glad that he’d assumed the guy was out of his league and never worked up the nerve to approach him. Orworse, to hit on him.
“Oh, Tom, you got here early,” Delia said, and sure enough, she headed like a shot towards the man in glasses andtheguy.
Trevor.
Your new brother.
Lane muttered a halfhearted “fuck,” under his breath as they approached the table.
The doctor slid out of the booth, greeting his mom with the same lovestruck expression currently plastered all over her face.
Well, she hadn’t been making shit up; it wasclearlyserious.
Dr. Thompson turned to Lane next. “And you must be Lane.” He smiled at Delia. “You weren’t kidding, he’sbig.”
“Not much to do with me,” Delia said, as Lane reluctantly took Dr. Thompson’s hand and shook it. A second later, the guy was wrapping his arms around him, andGod, of course the good doctor was a hugger.
That was true about Lane’s height—his dad, who he’d never met—had apparently been tall, and it wasn’t like he’d inherited any of his size from Delia, who was barely five feet.
“It’s so good to finally meet you, Lane,” the doctor said, and behind his glasses, his hazel eyes were gleaming with authenticity and truth. Of course he really fucking meant it.
Lane should be happy, but all he felt was a horrible crawling in the base of his gut, as everyone’s attention turned to Trevor, who slid out of the booth with one of those adorably bashful smiles on his face.
Trevor should not be his type. Trevor wasnothis type.
But there was no question that something about him set him on fire.
Shit, shit, shit.
“And this is my son, Trevor. He’s said you’ve seen each other around in the gym. He’ll be on the football team next year.”
“Hey, man,” Trevor said, and of course, he wasalsoa hugger.
Lane tried to immediately forget the press of Trevor’s body against his own, but he already knew it was going to be hard not to flash back to it the next time he had his hand around his dick.
Lane had the thought briefly cross his mind that maybe Trevor would be less inclined to touch him if he knew the truth about Lane’s sexuality, but they’d just gotten through the painful exercise of ordering, Delia and the doctor flirting shamelessly in front of them, when Dr. Thompson turned to Lane.
“Delia tells me you’re heading to USC next year for school. A full football scholarship. What an accomplishment.” The doctor’s voice was so warm and sorealit was hard to hold on to his resentment.
But then Lane’s gaze flicked, unable to help itself, back to Trevor, and there it was, back in spades. Why did his son have to betheguy?
“Yeah,” Lane said.
“And they’re accepting?” Dr. Thompson asked quietly, meaningfully.
Lane had been out since he was fifteen years old—had never really thought he wasinthe closet—which meant the whole school knew the truth about his sexuality. So obviously Trevordidtoo—wasn’t new enough to have missed it—and he’d still hugged him like that. Theybothhad.
Swallowing hard, Lane nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it should be good. I mean, I haven’t had much trouble here.”
“Probably because who’s gonna bullyyou,” Trevor piped up, the corner of his mouth tilting in a knowing smile.
“It’s not just about physical size,” Delia said, pride radiating out of her, “but yes, my Lane’s always been so good about sticking up for himself. And this area is fairly accepting, thank goodness. We’d have left, otherwise.”
